


Plenty herring, plenty meal

by loveinadoorway



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-09
Updated: 2011-05-09
Packaged: 2017-10-21 22:35:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/230597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveinadoorway/pseuds/loveinadoorway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A formal affair is being held to belatedly toast the new H50 offices.<b></b></p>
            </blockquote>





	Plenty herring, plenty meal

**Author's Note:**

> Blame it on the Red Hot Chilli Pipers (no, not peppers, PIPERS) and their awesome show on Saturday. Title’s a line from the Scottish folk song Mairi’s Wedding. And I did some research re: the possible exact tartan. No guarantees, though.

Title: Plenty herring, plenty meal  
 **Paring:** Steve/Danny  
 **Genre:** slash  
 **Rating:** M  
 **Word count:** 1595  
 **Warnings:** language, booze and a bit of hanky-panky **  
Spoilers:** None  
 **Disclaimers:** A girl can dream, right?.  
 **Summary:** A formal affair is being held to belatedly toast the new H50 offices. **  
Author’s Note:** Blame it on the Red Hot Chilli Pipers (no, not peppers, PIPERS) and their awesome show on Saturday. Title’s a line from the Scottish folk song Mairi’s Wedding. And I did some research re: the possible exact tartan. No guarantees, though.

 

 _  
Lt. Commander Steven J. McGarrett and partner  
You are cordially invited to the opening ceremony of the new offices of Hawaii’s special forces unit H-50. Evening wear mandatory. RSVP.   
_

Underneath, the governor had scrawled, “Don’t you dare bail on me here, McGarrett! And evening wear doesn’t the hell mean UNIFORM, you hear?”

Steve sighed and looked at himself in the mirror.  
He felt foolish, but he had just not gotten around to buying a new tux after the old one had been ruined on the job. Okay, he could’ve bought a replacement, but to be honest, he had hoped against hope a last minute assignment would come up so he could get out of this party.

Who needed such things, anyway?  
Five-Oh had been operational for months, so an office warming party was a waste of time, money and effort in Steve’s book. Sadly, the governor didn’t think so and had in fact been adamant about the whole affair. The “full immunity and means” thing hadn’t gone down well with some of Hawaii’s most influential citizens, so they were supposed to make nice and pamper as many of them as they could.

So here he was, making a complete and utter fool of himself.  
Muttering curses, Steve quickly walked to his truck and drove to the office.  
Of course, some fancy-shmancy car was parking on HIS parking space, making him walk almost a block in this ridiculous get-up.  
Some stupid kids even wolf whistled after him.

He arrived, ready to punch someone’s face in.  
It didn’t exactly help to see Kono’s open-mouthed stare and Chin with his eyebrows threatening to take up permanent residence in his hairline. But the worst was yet to come. Danny was in deep conversation with the governor and hadn’t as yet noticed Steve’s arrival. Which wasn’t a bad thing. Maybe his volatile partner would keep his Jersey potty mouth shut in front of the governor. And maybe pigs did indeed fly.

“What the FUCK, princess?”  
So much for the faint hope Danny would mind his manners in front of the governor.  
“What the hell is this shit?”

Steve pulled himself up to his full height and replied in a stiff, very dignified tone: “This is a Montrose doublet, a white formal shirt with lace cuffs, a white lace jabot, sealskin sporran, diced hose, black silk garter flashes, skean dubh and black buckled brogues.”  
”And a freakin’ skirt, McGarrett. Let’s not forget to mention the freakin’ SKIRT!”

Danny made sure he spent the entire evening elsewhere.  
Much as he had made fun of that kilt, he had a hard time hiding his rampant erection and whenever he spotted Steve, it got worse. Especially when that damned insufferable man was walking and the fucking back of the fucking kilt was swinging to the left and to the right.

Had the infernal oaf really said something about silken garter flashes? Hot damn, that… was just plain wrong. Garter. Men. No way, Jose.  
Danny downed another beer. Long fingered hands protruding from white lace cuffs grabbed the cold bottle the bartender had placed on the bar next to Danny.

Do not look, Daniel, do not look.  
Danny took a deep interest in a spot on the bar, contemplating if it was blood or cranberry juice.

“Danno?”  
“What?”

He hadn’t meant to snap at Steve like that, but hells bells, there were limits to his self-control. He had been seriously in lust with his partner for months now and truth be told, it might actually be a lot more than that at the end of the day. But you didn’t just blurt that out and Danny was sure if he had to look at that face above a foamy cascade of lace again, he would do just that. 

And then he might as well pack his bags and go back to Jersey, because a) you couldn’t ever have a thing with your partner on the force and b) McGarret SuperSEAL was as straight as they came, anyway.

He didn’t have to look up to notice the exact moment Steve walked away.  
And it wasn’t the absence of body heat to his right, either.  
His senses were kind of hardwired to Steve’s presence and he hated that with a fiery vengeance.  
Or so he kept telling himself.

Around seven or eight beers later, Danny was holding on to the bar for dear life.  
He knew he’d completely disgrace himself AND Five-Oh if he let go of the bar now. He was dead drunk and he shouldn’t be. Not at a formal function, not when the governor was there. Not at all, ever, actually. He tended to do stupid as shit things when drunk.  
He should know better than this.

“C’mon, Danno, time to go home.”  
The husky voice was much too close and Danny could feel Steve’s breath on the conch of his ear.  
“M’fine, Stev’n.”  
“Sure you are. Now c’mon. Governor has gone, so I can get you home without anyone noticing you’re shitfaced.”

When Danny came to the next morning, he had no clue how he had gotten there, where ‘there’ was, exactly and when he had eaten the very dead rat, for that decidedly had to be the reason for the taste in his mouth.  
He gingerly opened his left eye and saw something in orange, green and blue thrown across a chair. Orange, green and blue.  
Plaid.  
Tartan.

Danny jumped upright.  
FUCK!  
McGarrett’s tartan – what had he called it? Nithsdale? – kilt on McGarrett’s chair in McGarrett’s bedroom and Danny’s Jersey butt in McGarrett’s bed.  
What the hell?

He crept down the stairs, hoping against hope he’d awoken early enough so Steve would still be on his customary ‘oh, just a short swim to the mainland’ morning exercise.  
No such luck.  
The man was pottering around in his kitchen and the rich smell of coffee was tickling Danny’s nose in a not altogether unpleasant manner.

“Mornin’, Danno.”  
A mug was taken from the cupboard and placed on the counter, coffee was poured. Steve added a dollop of milk and two sugars and pushed the mug towards Danny.  
With a groan, Danny settled on one of the bar stools and very quickly hid his face behind the steaming mug.

“Say, Danno…”  
“What?”  
Oh God, here it came.  
“How do we go from here?”  
Shit.

“Could you… could you help me out here, Steve, because I think I may have misplaced a couple of hours of my life,” Danny said quietly, hating how hoarse and uncertain his voice sounded.

“So, let me get this straight, Detective Williams? You claim to have no recollection of last night’s events?

Damn, the man sounded far too amused. Danny took a deep breath. Nothing to do but to brazen it out.

“Nope, none whatsoever. Last thing I recall with anything even vaguely resembling clarity is when you pulled me from the bar and steered me from the room.”

“How damned convenient, Danny.” 

The voice was pure silk and held a decidedly evil undertone. And how the man had managed to get behind Danny in such short time and without him even really noticing was a complete and utter mystery.

“Let me tell you what you did when I got you to your car. Yours, not mine, since I was parked almost a block away, while you were parked on the sidewalk, bold as fuck, with a sign reading “Ask inside for Detective Williams if you have a complaint” in the window.”

Danny groaned. He should’ve known Steve wouldn’t find that funny. For all the due process that man violated big time during the course of one day, he was such a stickler for little things, like not parking on the sidewalk.

“And you know, I actually was half grateful for that, because you were not exactly being cooperative at that point, Danny. I didn’t appreciate your stubbornness at all, truth be told.”

Strong fingers were gripping Danny’s left shoulder and holding his right arm in place on the counter. The voice dropped another notch, a deep, dark growl that did funny things to Danny’s stomach – and other regions of his body, needless to say.

“But you know what I appreciated even less, Danno?”  
Danny licked his lips nervously.   
“No, Steven,” he whispered.

“Being shoved against your car, my kilt being flung upwards, leaving my ass bare to the elements and you groping the said ass while giggling hysterically ‘so it’s true, it’s true, no panties underneath the kilties’.”

Oh fuck.

“But you know what was even worse than that? The erection pressed against me.”

Mentally, Danny started to tick off a list of things he needed to do before getting the hell out of Dodge. Or Oahu. 

“You know why, Williams? Because you were too FUCKING DRUNK for me to do anything with you except toss you on my bed and let you sleep it off while I was on the sofa downstairs with a hard on the entire NIGHT,” McGarrett hissed, before slowly and deliberately rubbing his erection against Danny’s back.

“So. Now that you’re sober, Danny, can we please finally do something about this?”

Danny would deny to his dying day that he actually squeaked ‘yes please’ at this point.  
Williams men did not squeak.  
Nor did they beg in the bedroom, clamor for more, harder, deeper or whimper their partner’s name in the throes of their orgasm.  
Nor would Williams men ever get insanely hard whenever their partner wore a stupid plaid skirt, let alone demand for that skirt to be worn on every possible occasion.  


  



End file.
